


you're gonna be okay

by wilfre



Series: an island on xinareth [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, lets get this bread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 05:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15989009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilfre/pseuds/wilfre
Summary: the story of how feliks and chrys first met.





	you're gonna be okay

**Author's Note:**

> hello anyone who happens to be reading this...  
> feliks and chrys are my ocs who ive had for many years now!  
> i havent posted my writing about them publicly until now.. enjoy
> 
> [usually i have a ton of info about them on my ig @kasuyoko .. but im in the process of restarting my account]

How long had it been?

It couldn't have been more than two days. No way. Any longer and he would have been...

He shivered just thinking about what would happen to him.

_"If that kid isn't sold by the end of the week, get rid of him. I don't care what you do; take him for_ _yourself if you want."_

A tear rolled out of his good eye.

Nobody cared.

The other hostages only briefly regarded him with cold eyes as he burst into sobs. They had enough on their plate; they were already worried about their own fates, why should they make room for some stranger?

 _If only the other guy was still here..._ Chrys thought, trying to distract himself with fantasies. _Then I wouldn't be completely alone._

His fist clenched as a tear dripped onto it.

_But he's not. Fuck._

He put his head in his hands, wincing and nearly crying out as he brushed his wounds.

_I never even got his name._

He scooted into the back of his cage, bringing his knees up to his chest. He whined as his eye throbbed with pain, aggravated from the previous touch. Why did he have to say anything —

Chrys flinched at the harsh screech of the door opening, some light from the hallway pouring in before a switch flipped and the previously dark room was illuminated. A good amount of the hostages, Chrys included, hissed and shut their eyes.

The heavy stomp of combat boots and the eerie click of dress shoes against the concrete floor echoed throughout the room.

_Oh no._

A familiar accent cut through the tense atmosphere, confirming Chrys' fears. He still had his eyes shut, and he definitely wasn't opening them now.

"Alright, alright.. As gratitude for your work lately, I promised you could pick one hostage. One. You hearing me?"

"Yeah, boss, I know."

The shoes clacked against the floor once again, but this time headed in the opposite direction. The door shut, and the footsteps faded down the hall. Chrys reluctantly opened his eyes, squinting through the bright light.

_He's gone? ...What was that about?_

Once his eyes adjusted, he saw a man shuffling in place, looking around. Not the man that had tortured him, thank the Gods.

The man looked in every direction for a while, seeming lost in thought, before his gaze eventually settled on Chrys. They made eye contact.

Chrys felt a jolt of fear as the man started walking toward his cage, scrambling and trying to get as far away as possible, though his back was already against the bars.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck — No — Oh, Gods —_

His ears rang and Hoyt's words replayed in his mind, over and over again.

_"I promised you could pick one hostage. One."_

What did he mean by that?! Chrys really didn't want to find out. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He sat there, paralyzed, as the door to his cage opened. He didn't want to — He _couldn't_ be the one —

Frightened eyes met sympathetic ones as the man crouched down and peeked in at him.

"Hey, hey.."

His tone was soft. Gentle.

_Too soft. Too gentle._

He frowned at Chrys, extending his hand.

"It's alright... I'm not here to hurt you, amigo."

_That's what they all say._

Chrys didn't trust this. Not for one second.

He tried backing further into the corner, which didn't work out too well, and he felt tears literally burn at his eyes.

He whimpered from the pain, stopping himself from instinctively clapping a hand over his injured eye.

The man's expression grew increasingly worried.

"Please. I want to help you. I can get you out of here."

Chrys stared at him, his vision blurred with tears, and considered the offer.

"I-" His throat was rough and scratchy, and he coughed, further irritating it. He guessed it would be best not to talk until he got some water. _If_ he got some water...

 _Even if this is a trick... I'd rather die anywhere but in this fucking cage_.

He scooted forward, taking the man's hand, whose face lit up, and allowed himself to be helped out.

He was lifted to his feet, but his legs wobbled and threatened to give out from days without use, so he held onto the man, and the man held onto him. Chrys took comfort of the warmth of the other's arm; it was a luxury compared to the chilly floor and metal bars of his cage.

To his relief, the man unclipped a canteen of water from his belt and handed it to Chrys, who needless to say, gulped it down instantly.

Chrys sighed and wiped his mouth before handing it back, then returned to holding onto him.

"Thank you," he rasped as the man began guiding him to the exit. "What's your name?"

"Feliks," the stranger who finally had a name replied, opening the door and ushering Chrys out first.

Chrys cringed at the sound of the other hostages crying, drowned out after the door closed behind them.

"And yours, hermano?"

Feliks' voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Oh! Uhh- Chrys."

Chrys was suddenly feeling extremely awkward and self conscious; now, under the harsh lights and beside someone who was considerably more pristine, he was aware of how awful he must look. Feliks must've been a mind reader — and Chrys wouldn't doubt it, with all the weird powers their species had — as he flashed Chrys two reassuring smiles.

"Well, Chrys. It's gonna be okay." Chrys smiled back and leaned into the comforting pat to his shoulder. "I'm gonna take care of you, alright? I'll fix up your wounds, starting with... That one." He eyed the mess that was the left side of Chrys' face. Burns, bruises, singed hairs, and a long, deep cut running from his eyebrow, through his now swollen eye, and to his cheek. Feliks stepped back, holding his arms out to offer a hug. Chrys nodded and let Feliks carefully wrap his arms around him, weakly returning the gesture.

Feliks squeezed him, firm enough to be felt, but gentle enough to not hurt.

"You're gonna be okay."

Chrys sighed and smiled into Feliks' chest, finally lowering his barrier and genuinely trusting and believing the man who, five minutes ago, to him, seemed like a wolf in sheep's clothing — the end of his hope, the end of his fight, the end of him.

_I'm gonna be okay._


End file.
